


A storm that was bound to happen

by strngmgc



Category: Fleabag (TV), Fleabag (TV) RPF
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Cute cat, Eventual Smut, F/M, Slow Burn, Whump, fleabag completely confused, the priest being emotional
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:55:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26472238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strngmgc/pseuds/strngmgc
Summary: Fleabag sort of moved on (or maybe she thought she did?), she was truly happy being her best self. The Priest became a ball of confused feelings. What will happen when they collide again?A canon-compliant Fleabag and Priest reencounter. I know there are too many of these already but I can never have enough of these stories and I thought maybe other people felt the same way, so I decided to write my version of it.I still don't know how many chapters I'll write, but I don't want it to be long, maybe 5 or less?? We'll see.
Relationships: Fleabag/Priest (Fleabag)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 31





	A storm that was bound to happen

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfiction ever, I'd very much like some criticism, being I don't even read that much fanfiction myself, so... I hope I don't do anything stupid. Also, English isn't my first language, my experience with the English language was the four days I spent in London in 2012, so almost zero. Please warn me of any spelling/grammar mistakes.  
> Enjoy!

Fleabag was busy sitting on a very small wooden stool, looking at the bottom shelf of a cabinet, going through the storage of her café and listing things she needed to order. It had been 3 years since she last saw the priest. Ciabatta sandwiches were a big hit at the café these days, once again she had to buy bread, it’s unbelievable how much bread she had to buy, also how some things stopped selling out of nowhere and others became the new obsession, people changed too frequently. The thoughts on the priest would come and go, way less often than the first year after the bus-stop last encounter. She stopped writing things down, pen on her hand, still on the paper. Suddenly the image of his neck on the morning after they had sex was in her mind, she needed a minute to concentrate on it, her mind so far away from the daily tasks she had to do.

A short blonde girl, with a tired yet still friendly face interrupted her line of thought and opened the storage door slowly.

“Hey, I finished putting everything in order, I’m calling it a day… do you need help with that?”

Fleabag blinked rapidly to adjust to her reality and make sense of the woman who just barged into the room while she was having very private thoughts. 

“Uhh... no Linda, I’m good. I’ve just finished actually, I’m also going home. Did you clean the cappuccino machine?”

“I did and I still hate it.” Linda rolled her eyes upwards in an extremely dramatic way to make it very obvious she meant no offense. She was very young and expressive. Part of the reason why Fleabag hired her to help around was because she amused her and the clients so much, she had a great ironic sense of humour. “I hope you don’t ever make me do it again, if anything Stephanie should do it, she only slacks around and doesn’t help at all.”

“Okay, I’ll make sure to include this on her very busy schedule, between filling her cheeks with food and pooping.”

“Perfect! See you tomorrow.” 

“Bye, see ya.” Linda went away and Fleabag rose from the tiny stool she was sitting in and adjusted her shirt, put the shopping list on her bag, which was on the corner of a small table, grabbed it and left the room.

She closed the storage room and headed to the entrance of the café. On the way, she stopped by a picture of Hillary. The weirdest part of her café now wasn’t the guinea pig theme, but the existence of a hamster and lack of a guinea pig on a guinea pig themed café. Hillary had passed a couple of months after the priest broke up with her, which only caused the pain she was feeling to be way worse than it already was. She looked at Hillary like a tiny part of Boo that was still hanging around with her. Something she loved so much and that it meant so much to her, a symbol of their friendship. 

When the small animal died Fleabag lost it completely and started seeing a psychologist, a different one from her very first appointment. There she realised she still hadn’t gone through the entire process of grief, not from Boo and not for her mother either. She was burying her feelings and not acknowledging the reality of things, making herself busy with whatever and whoever was on her way. The priest helped her rethink on her losses a little bit, but she could never really open up about it with him, and when she thought she found someone she could pour her entire love on, he left her.

 _It will pass_ , he said. And in some ways, it really did. The love she felt for him was still there, though a bit different, she no longer thought she needed him in any way. She thought of him as a distant friend, remembered him in a good light and was thankful for the time they had together, it made her grow up emotionally, she was a way better person after she met him. She learned to love herself. She was finally truly happy with her own person, no longer feeling guilty for her past actions, no longer being sad for being alone. She was actually happy with her life, for the first time ever, really. 

Fleabag closed the blinds and locked the café, heading home while the sun was setting. She quite liked the walk back home now, it felt freeing and with a good sense of accomplishment for having another good and successful day on the place she opened with her friend. It could be quite hectic sometimes, but she managed to work things out. She even made friendships with some of her clients, started going out to drink and have a chat with them with a certain regularity.

She had an almost year-long relationship with an older and more successful woman, it was really great, until it wasn’t anymore. They decided to split and Fleabag had to learn to move on yet again. _But life does these things_ , she thought. _It’s just how it is, I just have to learn to live like this and be content with my circumstances_. And then she was. 

She opened the door and immediately her tuxedo cat George came to greet her at the door.

“Did you miss me or are you just hungry?” He started to rub his head on her legs while purring. 

Her house was practically unchanged, she still hated cleaning but felt compelled to, so things could be a bit messy but never really dirty. She took out her shoes and sat on her sofa, getting the shopping list from her bag and calling the food supplier company, making sure they were up to date with what needed to be delivered to the café for the next week and making some last minute changes in her order, “ten more loaves of ciabatta bread”, she said. She was a bit tired of making these small tasks for the café, but at the same time she didn’t want to give too much responsibility to Linda, she wanted to make it still very clear that she wasn’t a co-owner.

George kept asking for her attention, touching her lightly with his paw and making small noises so she could look at him. He was clearly hungry.

“Okay you chub chub, I’ll get your food now.” She put her phone down and moved him from her lap, getting up to the kitchen, he followed her.

She got a can of wet cat food from a shelf, opened it and poured it onto his little bowl. George was ecstatic, screaming, he couldn’t control himself. She had to keep him from getting up the counter.

“Bug off, you can’t come up here! Just be a bit more patient, alright?” He obviously didn’t listen.

She managed to lower his bowl to the floor, he immediately went for it, eating like he hadn’t seen food in fifty years. In reality he was just a huge glutton and was getting fat really quickly.

“You’re getting some beautiful love handles, did you know that?” He payed no attention. 

George appeared on her street near her house about a year ago, when he was just a small little kitten, it looked like he had been abandoned by his mom and the rest of his litter. Fleabag felt bad for him, he was so tiny and he was out in the cold so she put him inside, she thought maybe she could find someone to adopt him. That night she had a dream, it was more of a recollection, actually. It was her and Boo at the café on Boo’s birthday, Fleabag gave her the box that was supposed to have Hillary in it. Boo opened the box and Fleabag said it was something to love. Out from it came not Hillary, but kitten George. Fleabag awoke with tears in her eyes and decided to keep him. _You’re a sneaky bastard, can’t believe you got into my dreams._ That was all she had to say to him at the time, he just looked at her with a confused fuzzy face. She loved him ever since. 

After feeding Mr. George, she went straight for a hot shower and prepared something quick to eat while having a glass of wine in her pyjamas. After dinner and while sipping on what was left of the wine, George hopped on her lap and she started having extremely nostalgic thoughts while petting him lightly. 

She thought of when her and Boo were children and Boo got this fixation with screwdrivers and Fleabag and her would unscrew and screw the lid of a trunk she had on her room. She could do it for hours and Fleabag would watch her in awe, she loved seeing people do what made them happy, even if it was extremely weird. 

She thought of when her mother made impressions of the other members of their family in secret to Fleabag, she loved the impression of her aunt on her father’s side the most. It was their private little joke. Something only the two of them knew about and no one else would ever understand. 

She thought of a time her and Claire didn’t see eye to eye when they were teenagers and hated one another. But even then, when she thought her sister was her worst enemy, she stood up for Fleabag and beat a girl bloody because she had started picking on her sister and making her feel miserable. She never felt more love than in that moment. Not even after all these years. 

She thought of the priest. The way he gave his sermons with such passion. The way he talked about God with so much love. The way he looked after his parishioners. The way he looked at her on the very first day they met each other. Looking back, Fleabag was sure he felt the same way she did and found her to be attractive even in such awful circumstances. There was so much she liked to remember about him, his memory felt still alive and ongoing to her, as if he never really left. However, she very seldom thought about his actual person. Memories of him consisted mostly of the way he made her feel, of the love she felt for him and the love he showed her. Almost never vivid memories of the times they had together, at least not anymore.

With Boo and her mother, it was more of a longing, she missed them and looked back at the time they had together like something so far away, sometimes it seemed like another lifetime, she couldn’t believe she was so lucky to have met them. Her sister was also so far away in Finland with her new husband and preparing to have her baby, she was too distant, almost untouchable now. But with the priest, even though she hadn’t seen him in three years, she could still feel the love she had for him quite close to her heart. _Maybe this is how he feels God’s love_ , she thought. 

She put George aside and stood from the sofa, heading to the kitchen to wash the dishes, a bit tipsy from the wine, but still very much alert. The telly was on with a low sound on the background, it was quite peaceful. Until the buzzer went off. 

Who could it be? She wasn’t expecting anyone, hadn’t even online shopped to be expecting anything from the mail. She put the dishes down back in the sink and messily dried her hands with a towel, as quick as she could. Went straight to the door, opened it without checking who was there and her heart skipped a beat.

I was him. But why? How? What for? 

He looked a bit distraught to see her, and she knew for sure she looked the same, perhaps way more shocked to see him like that on her doorstep. 

“I- uh… hello.” His first words in three years.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope someone liked it, I really enjoyed writing it! Again, I'm so sorry if there is any English mistakes in this, I don't know if I'm able to edit the chapter once submitted to the website, but if it's possible I'll do it if I made any mistakes. If it's not already clear, I'm not very good at distinguishing English variations, I mix them up a lot on writing, but I tried my best to write in an English manner, since it's a British show.  
> Thank you so much if you read the whole thing, it means a lot to me!!! Comment if you liked it or if you have any sort of criticism.


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